


Spideypool One-Shots

by livin_in_my_head_2



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livin_in_my_head_2/pseuds/livin_in_my_head_2
Summary: A collection of one-shots. Some are only slightly AU while others are as different from the canon universe as can be. No regular update schedule, this one's just for fun :)Based on this drawing:https://livin-in-my-head.tumblr.com/post/183881436024/lizardyne-i-really-love-drawing-these-fake





	1. Author's Note

Spideypool is one of my diehard ships, so I decided to put together a collection for them! I just wanted to make a few important distinctions and announcements.

1\. **I don't write NSFW/smut**. Although every day I feel myself straying further from the light, so honestly, who knows where I'll be at tomorrow.

2.  **I ship very specific versions of Deadpool**. I don't ship their movie versions because their age/lifestyle differences make me slightly uncomfortable with the idea. And if I see anybody shipping anything bordering on/crossing over into pedophilia in the comments, we're gonna have issues. That being said, I ship either teenage Peter Parker AND teenage Wade, or the characters from the joint comic series, where they're both young adults.

3.  **I will not tolerate fandom-based hatred in the comments**. I don't care if you disagree with someone on a ship or scenario, but that gives you no right to attack them. Feel free to have mature conversations in the comments! Oh, and I specified "fandom-based hatred" because honestly, if a Nazi shows up down there, I'm counting on you to tear them apart.

4.  **In this collection, Stucky is real, Natasha is single, Bruce just isn't there (sorry, I really don't know how to write him), Pepper will probably be out of the picture, and Wanda and Vision are still together.** Sorry if you disagree with any of those executive choices but this is what's happening, so deal with it.

Thanks for taking the time to check this out, and I hope you enjoy!

*

I have a [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/livin-in-my-head) where I posted a collection of prompts. Most of these stories will be based on those and I'll post the prompts on here if requested!


	2. A Place to Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Peter and Wade are teenagers in this AU. Everyone is living in the Avengers base except for Wade.  
> *  
> Also I'm super out of it lately so I didn't edit it. Lemme know if there are spelling/grammatical mistakes.

Peter had been watching YouTube on his phone when the shadow of Tony's frame cut into his room. The man's arms were crossed tightly and he looked ten years older than usual.

Peter gasped, flying to his feet. "Wade's here!"

Tony rolled his eyes in reply and stepped aside, allowing the teenager to fly past him, down the hallway, and nearly tumble down the stairs in his eagerness to get to his boyfriend.

Wade was standing in the foyer, looking up at the ridiculously high glass ceiling and gripping the straps of the backpack like a kindergartener. His gaze was drawn back down to earth as Peter flew into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Hey, Peter," Wade murmured, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy tightly.

Peter finally pulled back and looked up into Wade's face, grinning widely. "Why do you have a backpack?"

Wade opened and closed his mouth a few times, shifting from foot to foot. Finally, he sighed. "I kind of...need a place to stay."

Peter's grin dimmed. "Why, what happened?"

Wade again avoided answering for a few seconds before sighing deeply. "My parents kicked me out. They kind of...found out about you."

Peter clapped a hand over his mouth, instantly scanning his boyfriend's arms and neck for bruises. He knew what sort of shitty parents Wade had, but despite his urge to get Wade out of the situation - or take a page out of his boyfriend's book and kill them - Wade had insisted that he do nothing. "I have a friggin' healing factor," he never failed to remind Peter. "I can handle whatever they throw at me. Literally."

But the one thing that had seemed to make Wade the most afraid - the one thing that he had never, ever wanted to allow to happen - was this. Being outed.

"Peter, Jesus. I'm fine. They didn't touch me."

"Wha - how?"

"Okay, so you know how I have an impulse control problem?"

"Yeah..." Peter remembered one too many missions that had ended with Wade in serious pain because he had made a split-second decision. Those missions also usually ended in him chuckling at Peter's best attempts to be stern, much to Peter's annoyance.

"Well, I had had this backpack packed for a while - just in case I needed to make a break for it - and a few hours ago I was just thinking about how shitty it is, not being open about our relationship. So...I grabbed my backpack and halfway out the door I just shouted over my shoulder, 'Mom, Dad - I'm gay!' And then I realized I have no money and nowhere to stay."

Peter dropped his head onto Wade's shoulder. "Oh my God."

"Please don't be mad."

"I'm not - well, okay, I'm kinda mad, but I'm also proud. That you had the guts to come out."

"Oh, please. You're braver than me. You came out to May, what, two years ago?"

Peter counted back. Yup, he had realized he was bisexual when he was fourteen and came out the following year. "Yeah."

"So really I'm the chicken shit one."

"Wade," Tony called from the top of the staircase. "So,  _so_ glad to see you again." His voice suggested murder. Peter knew that he would have come down sooner, but he was working on his own rage at seeing the boy. He knew that Tony wasn't technically his father, but he acted as protective as one should be. He had also accidentally heard certain conversations that still made Peter flush with embarrassment at the memory. It was hard, having a relationship in a house with protective superheroes.

"Hello, Mr. Stark," Wade greeted him politely. "Good to see you again."

"Why have you decided to grace us with your presence?" Tony demanded, ignoring him.

"I - I need somewhere to stay."

"Well, you can't stay here," Tony replied dismissively. Peter ground his teeth in frustration.

"Why not?" he called up.

Tony looked surprised that Peter had even thought to talk back. "He's your boyfriend, Peter. We can't have your boyfriend living in the same house as you. I feel like that's just bad child-rearing."

"I'm not much of a child anymore," Peter reminded him.

"Listen, you're almost a decade younger than Wanda, who's the next youngest. You're practically a fetus. And your boyfriend is not living with us."

"This place is huge! You could put him in a different wing and it would take him hours just to find his way back to my room."

"The fact that you're admitting he would try is enough. It's not happening."

"What if Mr. Rogers says it's okay?"

Tony opened and then closed his mouth, considering this. "Okay, fine. If you can get Star Spangled Teacher's Pet to agree to this, then I'll agree to it. But he won't agree to this because it's inappropriate."

*

"Yeah, sure," Steve said distractedly, busy watching yet another sitcom he had missed out on.

"Seriously?" Peter gasped, slipping his hand into Wade's.

"Yeah. Bucky and I got to live together when we were your age, and that worked out fine."

"Your mom died and you were small and alone," Bucky piped up. He was curled into Steve's side, quietly watching the TV as well. "I was morally obligated to move in with you."

"Yeah, but we had fun!"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Bucky shot Peter a grin, his words thick with suggestiveness. " _Lots_ of fun."

"Okay, see, now I'm reconsidering this," Steve started, but Peter dragged Wade from the room before he could change his mind.

"Steve said yes I'm setting Wade up in the guest bedroom please don't flip out okay thanks Mr. Stark," Peter rattled off as he tugged Wade after him, up the staircase. He didn't even have to turn around to know that Tony's jaw was hovering somewhere near the floor.

The guest bedroom was at the end of the hallway of rooms. At the top of the stairs was Steve and Bucky's room. The one next to that was Wanda's, and the one next to that was Vision's. Peter's was the second-to-last bedroom, with the guest room being the last.

Natasha rarely slept, so she had rigged up a hammock in a broom closet next to the indoor track. Peter thought it would be an awful place to sleep - there was no room for personal belongings - but Natasha claimed to enjoy the small space.

Tony - because he was Tony - slept in a house-sized room complete with a glamorous kitchen. It was connected to his workshop, where he spent many early hours of the morning after nightmares. Peter only knew he had nightmares because of the numerous jokes Tony cracked about them.

Really, the only reason Natasha and Tony didn't sleep closer to the others was that they were afraid they would disturb them with their irregular sleeping habits. Peter didn't mind, though. It was quiet in the residential wing of the house. Wanda and Vision kept to themselves a lot and Steve and Bucky had their hands full with trying to catch up on pop culture.

"No. Uh uh," sounded from down the hallway as Peter began to help Wade unpack. "He is not sleeping  _next door_ to you. In fact, I liked your alternate wing suggestion. Come on, Wade - how 'bout you come sleep in the room next to mine? Better yet, you can take a room close to Natasha's closet."

"Your room will be fine," Peter said quickly. Wade stood a chance of getting out of Tony's supervision, but if Natasha was placed in charge of him, he wouldn't be able to move a muscle outside of his room until daybreak.

They got Wade set up in a small, yet unused room next to Tony's. That was one of the things Peter still didn't understand about the base - it had been built with so many rooms that they weren't all in use. Why build them in the first place? But he supposed they came in handy in times like these.

It was already evening and Wade claimed he had eaten. Peter didn't want to ask where he had got the food if he didn't have any money. "Do you wanna watch a movie?" he asked instead.

"Sure."

They ended up watching  _Terminator_ for - at least in Peter's case - about the thousandth time. Wade was in the corner of the couch with Peter in front of him, his back pressed into his chest.

It was hard to focus on the movie since Peter was so excited that Wade was staying here. It was even harder to focus when Wade began pressing kisses to his neck, tracing a path from behind his ear down to his shoulder.

Peter hummed deep in his throat and snuggled closer to Wade. His boyfriend's hand slid over his stomach, stopping to toy with the band of Peter's jeans. Peter flipped on his side so that he could kiss Wade, deep and lingering.

A rap sounded on the doorframe and Peter jerked away from Wade in surprise, almost falling off the couch. Wade's steadying hand on his back stopped him, however, and he offered Peter a gentle smile before they both turned to see who had knocked.

It was Tony, who looked as though he was about to explode. "Bedtime," he ground out.

Peter didn't usually have an official bedtime, but he guessed that now he did.

*

It was the middle of the night when Peter's bedroom door creaked open, rousing him from a light slumber. He hadn't meant to doze off at all, since he had fully expected this late-night visitor, but his eyelids had grown heavier and heavier until he was thrown into a relaxing, dreamless world. Now he had gotten enough sleep to be alert.

Wade crept in and climbed onto Peter's bed, lowering himself onto him and kissing him deeply. Peter twined his fingers through Wade's hair, loving the feeling of Wade's hands on either side of his face, the intoxicating burn of his lips, the dizzying sensation of their skin meeting where their shirts rode up.

He completely lost track of time as they kissed. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. All Peter knew was that he was falling even harder for Wade.

"I love you," he panted as Wade pulled away to catch his breath.

"I love you, too," Wade whispered back. He kissed Peter, his lips curving into a slight smile that the smaller boy quickly reflected.

"Mr. Stark's not gonna let you stay here much longer," Peter warned his boyfriend.

"I know. I'll make the most of it while I'm here." Wade chuckled low in his throat and slid his hands under Peter's shirt, fingers tracing Peter's lean muscles as light as a butterfly. Peter's skin prickled, not at all unpleasantly.

Wade would have to leave soon, or maybe by some stroke of luck Tony would decide to let him stay. But for now, in these empty hours of the morning, Peter had Wade all to himself - and, like Wade had said, he intended to make the most of it.


	3. Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written late and written poorly but written all the same :)

Feet pounded against the concrete rooftop, laughter breaking the layer of silence that lay above New York’s noise. It was one of Spider-Man’s favorite things about the city - despite the constant chorus of horns honking, people shouting, distant sirens wailing, the rooftops always held a sort of peaceful tranquility. It made him feel removed from the rest of his city that, sometimes, was wonderfully refreshing.

 

But today, that silence was shattered, shoved to the side in favor of Wade’s loud chuckles. Peter couldn’t help but grin at the sound, watching his boyfriend affectionately as they came to a stop at the edge of the roof.

 

The sun was just beginning to set, and with it, Peter’s adrenaline began leaving his body. It had been a long, hard day of fighting for their lives, but in the end, they had emerged victorious - so, an average Thursday for the superpowered couple.

 

Wade grabbed his shoulders, hugging him close and pressing a rough kiss to the mask still covering his forehead. The anti-hero had already taken his off, while Peter had just uncovered his mouth. Now he tugged it off entirely, tossing it uncaringly to the rooftop.

 

“We did good!” Wade proclaimed.

 

“We did good,” Peter agreed - quieter but just as content.

 

“Do you wanna talk through it? You usually wanna talk through it.”

 

“And you usually don’t wanna listen.”

 

Wade nuzzled into Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll make an exception. I’m in a good mood.”

 

Peter grinned. “If you insist.” He crossed his arms and stared out over the city as Wade left his side, giving him space to think and process. For a murderous former mercenary, his boyfriend was surprisingly good at reading his moods.

 

“I’m super grateful that we were able to beat these guys,” Peter started, “and of course there’s that little part of me that’s like, ‘What if we didn’t?’ But I’m not listening to him yet. I’m still feeling too good about today.”

 

The city was truly beautiful from up here. The dying rays of the sunlight reflected in windows and glass for miles around, beautiful hues of orange and purple painting the sky.

 

“I’m just thankful you were there. I’m thankful that you’re always there now. It makes it all a lot easier for me. Just knowing I’m not alone.” A smile tugged at Peter’s lips - not because he found anything funny but because he could hardly believe how dramatic he was being. But Wade had offered to listen, so he forged on.

 

“Those years when I was doing this alone were some of the darkest. I was always outnumbered, always wondering if my plan was the best. But now you’re here, cracking jokes and laughing at my one-liners and offering alternatives I hadn’t even thought of. It just makes it easier to breath, I guess.”

 

Running out of steam, he glanced over at Wade to see if the man was fed up with his monologging yet.

 

Instead, he found Wade down on one knee, holding a ring.

 

“Marry me.”

 

The words, so simple and short, we’re filled with so much hope and love and desperation that Peter’s eyes instantly filled with tears. He wiped them frantically and tried to get a better look at the ring.

 

“Is...is that a  _Ring Pop?”_

 

“This wasn’t exactly planned,” Wade explained, laughing slightly. “It’s the best I can do.”

 

It was so childish and stupid and  _Wade_  that Peter’s tears finally spilled. He laughed through a small sob, covering his mouth with one hand.

 

“...Is that a yes?”

 

All he could do was nod.

 

Wade sprung to his feet, grabbing Peter in a tight hug. When he pulled away, Peter kissed him fiercely, relishing the familiar toughness of Wade’s lips, the curves of muscles in his arms that Peter knew like the back of his hand.

This was perfect.


	4. Cleaning Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade's a mess after a particularly nasty battle. Despite his regeneration, Peter insists on helping him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and kinda dumb but I had to get it out.

"Just admit to me that this is useless," Wade murmured, trying not to move his facial muscles too much. His pain receptors were insanely stunted - he usually didn't feel minor injuries - but that shit that they had just gone through was anything but minor. Breathing hurt more than anything, on account of the several shattered ribs, but he had taken a few powerful hits to the face, too.

"No," Peter replied absentmindedly, much more focused on wiping the blood from Wade's pockmarked skin.

"I'm not saying you have to stop, or that you have to say this is anything but amazingly kind. I just want you to say that this is useless."

"It's not useless. I'm not stitching you up or setting your bones. I'm cleaning the blood off of you. Last I checked, that's not one of your superpowers."

"Aw, come on. We could just shower, get it off."

Peter raised his eyebrows, looking unimpressed at the quick, short sexual innuendo, but the slight blush in his cheeks gave him away. He was so innocent, it hurt Wade's heart. They were utter opposites in more ways than this, and it was painful to think about sometimes. From multiple perspectives, of course - not just the  _I'm falling in love with you_ one.

After all, shouldn't team members be at least somewhat similar? Have some sort of coordination? But then again, on the battlefield, the two heroes  _were_ coordinated, almost scarily so. Their differences were put aside for the minutes or hours - or in this case days - until their inevitable victory - inevitable because when working together, they were just  _that good_.

It was part of why Wade was falling for Peter, he figured. The fact that Peter understood him on such an intrinsic level despite everything - backgrounds, moral stances, methods - separating them. The guy was empathetic as hell, and stupidly kind to Wade - as he was currently demonstrating, their faces inches apart as he scrubbed at a particularly tricky patch of drying blood.

Wade winced and hissed slightly as Peter located the cut from which the dried blood had originated. It didn't really hurt, but when your whole pain scale gets thrown off-kilter, you have to redefine it somehow. For Wade, it made him feel more human, reacting to the slight pressure he felt where alcohol met open wound.

Peter pulled back, not recognizing the deceit. "Sorry. Did that hurt?"

"A little." A couple more humanity points in the fucked-up video game that was his life. Wade sighed and tried to sit still as Peter returned to his work.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Peter paused for the briefest of moments before continuing. "It's nothing."

"No, it's something." Wade grabbed the other man's wrist lightly - loose enough that Peter could pull away in an instant if he wanted to.

He didn't.

"You're the only person who's ever offered to do anything like this," Wade reminded him in a voice too idle to fit comfortably in this conversation. "That's not nothing to me. That's a pretty big something."

Peter smiled weakly, at an obvious lack of words. Wade released his wrist and slouched back in his seat. "Besides, you helped me give those guys a pretty good ass-kicking back there," he continued in a brasher tone, trying to get a larger smile out of Peter. It worked, and he flashed his own grin to match the web-slinger's.

"There you go," Peter said, grabbing a towel and running it over Wade's face, paying special attention to the places most doused in cleansing alcohol.

Wade watched him, finding himself exploring Peter's jawline, the curves of his lips, with his gaze. Wishing he could explore them with something a bit more...tangible.

That and his pain-brought delusion resulted in him asking, entirely without thinking, "Can I kiss you?"

They both froze at that. Peter, placing his medical equiptment away, was stone-still, the bottle still clutched in his hand. Wade, sitting on his chair, was equally motionless, half berating himself for saying anything, half desperately curious to see what Peter would say.

Peter turned back to him, slowly, deliberately, placing the bottle on the countertop. He searched Wade's eyes - for the lie in his words, maybe, some form of deceit or some trick he was playing on Peter.

 _No tricks_. Not this time. Wade could barely breathe past the honesty weighing down his chest, the truthfulness of his words in sharp contrast to his quips and compulsive deceptions.

And then Peter spoke, uttered the most beautiful word Wade had ever heard.

"Yes."

Wade didn't waste any time - wary of Peter changing his mind, maybe, although if that happened, he knew he'd find himself tied to the wall in no time at all. He surged out of his chair, grabbed Peter's shoulders for balance, and kissed him for all he was worth.

Peter inhaled roughly through his nose. Maybe he hadn't expected Wade to be so eager about it, or maybe he hadn't expected Wade to be serious. The mercenary was about to pull back, cautious of scaring Peter off, but then the superhero pressed forward, palms against Wade's chest, with a small noise in the back of his throat that threatened to undo the antihero.

He groaned against Peter's lips, feeling weak like he never had with anyone else. Everything about him was intoxicating - the sharp curve to his Cupid's bow that Wade had been staring at for so many months, the tautness of his muscles as Wade explored his shoulders and back, how close he was, heart thumping through his thin T-shirt.

Wade wasn't sure which one of them pulled away first, but they were suddenly separated, foreheads pressed together for strength, gasping for air.

"Thanks again," Wade said, and his voice came out almost comically strange. He cleared his throat and continued. "For patching me up."

Peter grinned, an expression that Wade could mostly see in the crinkle of his eyes.

"My pleasure."


	5. Is There Somewhere You Can Meet Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may be able to tell from the title, this chapter is based off of Halsey's amazing song, "Is There Somewhere." I would reccomend listening to it before or during reading to get the total mood/feel I was going for (unless that isn't your kind of music, of course, in which case it would probably just ruin the experience for you...)
> 
> I've been having a tough time lately, so sorry if that reflects in the story. As I'm writing this note, I honestly am not sure what direction this is gonna go in. Probably angsty, knowing me.
> 
> Also, Wade's wife isn't an established character. Make her who you will in your mind, but I honestly did not create her with the intention of her being a specific Marvel character. That's why she doesn't get a name lol

Wade felt the tightness in his chest easing as he turned off of the main road onto the gravel one, feeling the car begin to shudder and buck underneath him with the change in terrain. He held the steering wheel steady, tensing to keep himself in his seat but feeling more relaxed than he had in two weeks.

God, it had already been two weeks, hadn't it? He wasn't sure how he'd managed a whole fourteen days without Peter, but it sure hadn't been easy.

The road came to an end at a parking lot. The parking lot was also gravel, with very few clearly defined parking spaces, and even fewer cars to inhabit them. The lot belonged to the motel behind it, tucked away in the crop fields of upstate New York. An odd place for a motel, to be sure, but it served their purposes well.

The motel wasn't very nice, even just comparing it to other crappy motels. The green paint (why  _green_ , first off?) was chipping, the doors didn't fit completely into their frames, and the furniture was so old and crusted with mystery substances that Wade had actually bought cleaning products in the past.

And new furniture.

And sheets and a nice shower curtain and daisies, once, because Peter had said those were his favorite flowers.

The motel was so rarely used by anyone that Wade and Peter had worked out an arrangement with the owner - for a small fee every week, the room farthest from the road would always be theirs. That was why Wade had bought so much decor - since they practically owned the room, he had wanted to make it nice, and the owner was hardly objecting. If Wade and Peter ever gave him back the room, he got to keep the nice, refurbished version.

It was  _so_ much nicer than the other rooms. A bed that didn't creak, thanks to a used mattress that had been in remarkably good condition...a plush chair that was ripping at the seams that Wade had picked up from someone's curb...yellow curtains that blocked the view in but still let in sunlight...and the carpet, although still ugly and stained, had been steam cleaned and vacuumed and scrubbed at so many times that Wade doubted a single germ could find a comfortable home in it.

The bathroom was an impressive feat, too, but he didn't like to think about the horror he had had to clean a few months ago.

It was wild to think this had just been going on for a few months. Insane, actually. He had only met Peter, what, five months ago? They had been sleeping together for four.

They had been - at least in Wade's mind -  _together_ together for three.

There was guilt, yeah. A lot of it, actually. That was the biggest problem Wade faced in all of this, he reflected as he parked his car and got out. Especially when he came home from a day of work, when his wife would press a kiss to his cheek and explain what elaborate meal she was making for dinner. He hadn't intended to cheat on her - he had never intended to cheat on her. He had been in love, once. His wedding day had been the happiest of his life.

But it only took a couple weeks for him to start smelling some other man's cologne on his wife's things. For him to catch signs of hickeys tucked away under turtlenecks and scarves. For his wife to stop talking to him like she used to and start filling his evenings with menial things. When she started routinely commenting on the weather, like they were two awkward coworkers instead of a married couple, he knew that, at least unofficially, it was over.

That had been eight months ago. For four months after that, he held true to his promise. As she kept cheating on him and barely remembering to look him in the eyes, he held strong to his marital vows.

And then Peter had come along and shattered what little eroding self-control Wade had left.

Wade knocked smartly on the motel door, their signature knock to let the other know it was safe to answer. One of the downsides to choosing your affair location in a beaten-down motel - there were some interesting characters in the other rooms.

The door swung open, revealing Peter's rumpled hair and huge grin. "Wade!"

Wade couldn't help but laugh at his expression as he moved quickly inside and shut the door behind him. As Peter wrapped him in a hug, he murmured into his hair, "You always act surprised that I show."

"I'm worried you'll realize I'm not good enough for you and go back to your wife," Peter reminded him casually. The first time he had said something like that, it had led to an hours-long conversation about their future, Wade's marital problems, and all the issues Peter had in his own life.

He had said it enough times since then for Wade to recognize it this time as a joke.

"Well, of course," he replied teasingly. "I practically own a motel room and scrubbed the goddamn  _toilet_ in it because I'm not invested in this relationship."

Peter grinned, standing on his tiptoes to reach Wade's lips. His mouth was soft and warm, intoxicating. Wade sighed slightly, grabbing Peter's shoulders and trying not to be too rough.

The evening was young. They'd have plenty of time for that.

He still couldn't believe he'd survived two weeks, though.

The sun was setting outside, but inside the motel room, the lamps Wade had bought were glowing gently, creating an ambient feel of coziness, safety.

Peter gazed up at him from where he had settled on the armchair. "How are you? How's life?"

"Life sucks as usual, but right now, it's getting rapidly better," Wade replied, settling down on the floor with his back to the bed.

Peter grinned. "Do you wanna talk about anything?"

He thought. "Not really. I've been waiting to see you for two weeks and I might combust if I have to wait much longer."

The smile grew. Peter stood and offered a hand to Wade. "Well, then. We should fix that. Don't want you combusting and setting fire to this nice room."

"We don't want that," Wade murmured distractedly as Peter grew nearer. He couldn't believe the man could still have this effect on him after so many months - he was dizzying to be around. Wade always felt slightly unsteady on his feet with him, but in the best possible way. Like riding a roller coaster or swinging with his eyes closed.

He reached out and closed the gap between them, tugging Peter close. Raising his hands and cupping Peter's face gently, he lowered his head and closed the distance between their mouths.

The kiss was slow, sweet - at first. But then that flame sparked within Wade, the same one he had been trying to keep at bay for two weeks. He began to kiss Peter harder, walking him backwards until his back hit the wall and he let out a small gasp.

Peter's hands ran through his hair, sending shivers up and down Wade's spine. He pressed himself flush against Peter, using all the shredded control he had left to take it as slow as he could. To not rush this.

His hands lowered to explore Peter's body, running over the muscle hardening his arms and stomach. He looked small, sure, but the man was ripped. It turned Wade on even more and he swallowed Peter's gasps, silencing his own.

Peter's fingers sought out the hem of Wade's T-shirt and he promptly forgot the meager self-control he had been employing. He broke away from Peter only a second to shrug off his shirt, Peter doing the same.

Wade's fingers sought out Peter's hipbones, grabbing the sharp, jutting corners and pressing their hips together. Peter whimpered slightly, a sound that nearly did Wade in.

It wasn't long before they were in bed, heat and flames licking at both of their insides. The way Peter looked up at Wade, arched his back towards him, grabbed at his back for a handhold and cried out meant Wade didn't -  _couldn't_ \- last long. Soon they were lying next to each other, panting for air.

Peter rolled on his side, pressing a kiss to Wade's neck. Wade hummed happily at the sensation, scooting closer to Peter.

"I love you," Peter murmured sleepily, already halfway to unconsciousness.

It was such a natural thing to hear him say, such a natural thing for Wade to say in return, that it wasn't until he was on the brink of sleep that he realized it was their first time having said it.

He went to sleep with butterflies raging in his stomach, a smile tugging at his lips.

**[Two months later.]**

Wade and Peter stared in shock at the notice plastered to the motel office. "This can't be right," Wade breathed, reading the words over and over again but refusing to accept it.

"Oh, no," was all Peter could whisper.

It was a demolition notice. Set for two days.

The office was empty. All the rooms were locked - save Wade's and Peter's, since they had keys. The motel owner was nowhere in sight, nor was anyone else.

"Why wouldn't he call and tell us?" Peter demanded, slouched against the wall in their room. The room they would soon lose.

"Did he even have our numbers? He had my email to work out the room renting situation but I don't think I ever gave him my phone number." Wade tugged out his cell phone, checking the spare email he had created specifically for contacting Peter and the motel manager.

He sighed at the unread message in his inbox. "He emailed me about three days ago. Letting me know that we could come get our stuff if we wanted."

Peter looked around the room they had spent so many hours in, the room where they had been free to remodel and chat and be happy together. "I don't want any of this," he replied sadly, and Wade knew what he meant. None of this stuff would look right in his own house, or even in another motel.  _This_ was their space.

And they were about to lose it.

"Maybe this is a sign." Peter's voice was low, quiet.

"A sign?" Cold dread trickled over Peter as he waited to hear his next words.

"Yeah, some sign from the universe. This was too good to last, Wade, you know that. You're  _married_ , for God's sake, and I'm the kind of guy who has no problem sleeping with a married guy!"

"You didn't know I was married when we started seeing each other."

"Seeing each other," Peter repeated. "We're not a couple, Wade. We never were. We meet in a goddamn hotel room to fuck every few weeks and then we go on our merry ways!"

"The ways aren't that merry," Wade replied, attempting some sort of joke. It fell flat in the silence between them. He kept talking, desperate to redeem this, desperate to make things better. "Peter, lately, I've been missing you more and more when I'm not with you. I don't just meet you here for the sex. I like talking with you, hearing about your life and opinions and thoughts on things. I like spending time with you outside of just cheating on my wife. Do you honestly think that's all this is to me?"

"I don't know!" Peter snapped back. "I hardly know anything about you, Wade! We've been together for, like, half a year and I still hardly know anything about you. What was I supposed to think when you refuse to talk about your life or your marriage or anything of actual substance?"

It was a fair point. Fair enough to send Wade's eyes burning with tears he refused to let fall. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I wish I could do things differently."  _I wish I could meet you first, I wish I could marry you instead, I wish I could spend my life with you_.

"I wish that, too," Peter murmured, running a hand over his face.

They stood in painful silence for a while longer before Peter sighed, straightened up, and shook his head slightly, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." The word, bleak, empty, didn't feel like home.

No,  _this_ place felt like home. This small, middle-of-nowhere room they had spent so long on building into their life together.

And that was the problem, Wade realized in a flash. This room encompassed their life together. There were no dates or vacations or even days out on the town they had spent together. No, the entirety of their relationship could be summed up in this one room.

What sort of basis for a relationship was that?

And maybe it had been too good to last. There had been that small voice in the back of his head the whole time, telling him that his wife would find out, that someone he knew would see him coming here, that Peter would grow jealous and spread the news of their affair. He had always known something would happen to bring this crumbling down.

He had only hoped that, lately, his love for Peter would be stronger than that.

"Email me," he pleaded as Peter was about to close the door.

Peter glanced back at him, and in his eyes, Wade saw months' worth of emotions. Anger, guilt, uncertainty, understanding...

Love.

The door closed.

**To: Peter Parker**

**From: Wade Wilson**

**Re: Hey**

**Hey, Peter. I know it's been a while since we talked. I was wondering if you wanted to get together, maybe grab a coffee or something. We can keep it strictly PG if you want. I wouldn't mind.**

**I went to go visit the hotel last weekend. They really did a thorough job. It's just a pile of gravel with some rubble mixed in. I don't think they kept anything from the rooms. Maybe all that furniture's off making some other couple happy now.**

**I would really like to see you again. Please email back.**

 

**To: Peter Parker**

**From: Wade Wilson**

**Re: Me again**

**I promise this'll be the last email if you don't want to talk. Or reply. Or ever see me again. I'll understand.**

**I just...I honestly feel like we had something special. That's not me being cheesy or anything - or maybe it is, I don't know. I've just never felt the things I felt with you, with anyone else. Did that make sense? I don't feel like that made sense.**

**You don't have to reply. You don't even have to read this email. But I really hope you do.**

 

**To: Peter Parker**

**From: Wade Wilson**

**Re: please.**

**I miss you.**


End file.
